


Twisted Fate

by Fangirl0431



Category: Heathers (1988), Heathers: The Musical - Murphy & O'Keefe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Alternate Universe - Time Travel, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, F/F, F/M, Heathers: The Musical References, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Time Travel Fix-It
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-30
Updated: 2019-10-30
Packaged: 2021-01-13 02:02:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,388
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21236306
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fangirl0431/pseuds/Fangirl0431
Summary: Veronica Sawyer has been through Hell and back, these past few months of her senior year have really done a number on her. Things couldn't possibly get any worse.Though after a mishap in the cemetery she wakes up to a whole new level of hell.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Author's note:
> 
> • So first off:  
So despite my very long list of other things I could and should be doing I really wanted to take a crack at something new. I've done a lot of ddlc and some glee stuff. So I'm going out on a limb and trying to write something different, so I decided on Chansaw for those of you who don’t know what that is, it’s Heather Chandler x Veronica Sawyer. There will be some undertones of McNamara x Duke in the background of this story.
> 
> • Secondly:
> 
> This is gonna be an AU of sorts. Meaning it still follows the events of Heathers to a certain point, it’s kind of like if the musical and the movie threw up on each other, it would be this story.  
But some of the differences in this story is  
o Heather Chandler and Veronica were a lot closer in this  
o The Heathers aren’t really good friends with Martha but they know she’s Veronica’s friend so they don’t bully her, but they’re still the Heathers so they tease her.  
o Veronica knew the Heathers since the fifth grade and has been friends with them since middle school, but Veronica has known Martha since they were in diapers.  
o JD is still the new kid in school senior year
> 
> • Thirdly:
> 
> This won't be a retelling of the story, like it will have its own spin on things, basically, it’s an AU if Veronica attempted suicide after the events of the Heathers movie/musical and wakes up Monday after the Remington Party. 
> 
> • Fourthly (not sure if fourthly is a word or not):
> 
> JD is gonna be the antagonist of this story, every story needs one, and he fits the bill. So if Evil JD isn’t your thing then you’ve been warned. 
> 
> -I believe that's everything, well I hope you enjoy this book and without further ado on to the first chapter!-

** Chapter 1: Regrets **

I sighed bitterly as I stared down at the gravestone that loomed before me as the deadly reminder of all I’d done these past months. I rub my sleep-deprived eyes with my clenched fist before I let it drop back to my side lifelessly. I just felt numb. I tentatively reached out my frigid fingertips tracing the name that had been haunting me since that horrible Monday morning.

_ Here Lies _

_Heather Kimberly Chandler _

_Beloved sister and Daughter,_

_ Friend to all_

_May she rest in peace. _

I snort at the wording; Heather was definitely not everyone's friend. I chuckle softly; no Heather was way too prickly for that. She had a very small clique of friends, Duke, Mac, and I was her only friends, she had tolerated Martha sometimes. Heather Chandler had been a very private person, one who didn’t let her true feelings show for just anyone. But outside of school, she was almost a completely different person, I mean once you got to know her Heather wasn't bitchy, prickly yes because she wouldn't be Heather Chandler without her spunk, but she wasn't an uptight cold-hearted bitch like everyone had perceived her to be. I bet no one knew how Heather had liked to dance around the kitchen whenever she would cook, even though she only knew how to cook a very selective list of things, she would still dance around and drag whoever was closest to her into her impromptu performance. No one would know how only Mac and I could get her to cave when she had her mindset on something. No one would have ever guessed that the Heather Chandler was a complete softy for the puppy dog eyes, well if they came from the right person.

Everyone always thought that just because she and Duke were bickering constantly that they were mortal enemies. And I’ll admit she and Duke were always at each other's throats more often than not. However, they always had each other's backs no matter how pissed off they were at each other. They butted heads constantly but they treated each other like sisters if anything. Now nobody would ever know that. No one would know that they wouldn't know that Heather would cry at Bambi, though she tried her damn hardest to pretend she wasn’t, or that she secretly loved to stargaze on warm starry nights. No one would know that the Heather Chandler sometimes wore red footed pajamas to bed if she was really cold. No one would know how insecure she really was deep down inside, no one would know because I killed her.

Her laugh would never light up my Saturday nights, her smile would never grace my presence. She was all gone. 

They were all gone, Kurt, Ram, Heather and for what?

A frivolous and horrifyingly toxic relationship that was doomed from the start. I glared at my shoes, what was wrong with me? Now JD was gone too, so what good did any of this get me? Nothing unless you count a guilty conscience, insomnia, and horrible PTSD. I shuffled down the rows of gravestones, running my shaking hands together trying to gather some warmth. It was around midnight and for an April night, it felt much colder. I stopped in front of his grave. It was still somewhat fresh, the dirt still tilled with bits of new grass poking through sporadically. I traced the name with my eyes rather than my fingers; I didn’t want to touch anything of his. Not ever again.

_ RIP _

_Jason Dean_

It almost made me pity him, that this was all his dad wrote on his gravestone before skipping town, but then I remembered Heather clutching her throat, looking at me with hurt in her eyes, Ram begging for his life, and I just feel hate. Though the hate was mostly for myself, about forty percent is hate for him. I run a shaking hand through my hair.

How could I have let this go as far as it did? How'd I go from being Heather Chandler's best friend and movie nights with Martha every other Saturday to an accomplice to murder?

My phone buzzes in my pocket no doubt its Mac or Martha wanting to know where I am. I had been out here for quite some time, about an hour or two. I shiver slightly, tugging my coat together to zip it closed. I considered texting them and promising I’d just be late to friends movie Friday, but that would be a lie, and I’d done enough of that to last me a lifetime. Duke didn't hang out with us anymore.

Tears are filling my eyes and restricting my throat, I take a few shuddering breaths. Duke stopped hanging out with us after Chandler died and she and Mac got into a major fight. She sure as hell didn’t want anything to do with me. Not that I blame her, I wouldn't want to hang around me either. I was a sad depressed shell of a girl I didn't even know anymore. I clench my hands glaring at his stupid gravestone.

“Why’d you do this? What was the point? Are you happy now?” I whimper tearfully as I drop to my knees and my phone continues to buzz with indignation in my pocket. The worst part of all this mess is Heather and I got into a fight the night before JD tricked me into going to her house for "revenge". Her last thoughts of me were that I hated her.

“Why am I so stupid?” I sob to the empty graveyard as if it will give me any answers. When my phone vibrates once more I blindly tear it from my pocket and hurtled it across the graveyard. It’s bitterly ironic that it lands in front of Ram’s grave lighting his name up like a beacon to all the shameful things I’d done. I duck my head, whimpering pathetically at my own guilt.

_“What are you doing Veronica?”_

I feel my whole body go tense at the sound of her voice if she’s even really there.

“Go away, Heather,” I mutter it under my breath as brace myself by pressing my hands against the ground, glaring at the fresh grave as I attempt to steady my shaking body and frantic heartbeat.

_“No, not until you go home or to your stupid movie thing with Mac and Dunnstock!” _

Her disembodied voice or ghostly presence, I honestly don’t know which at this point, proclaims. Though I am almost certain she’s just a projection of my ever-growing insanity if I’m being honest with myself. I chuckle softly to myself, a crazed kind of sound that comes from complete disbelief rather than amusement or goodwill. I shake my head back and forth at the simple ultimatum. But I didn’t come here to just reminisce before I went to movie night. I came here with a very particular goal in mind.

I reach into my pocket once more, this time removing the item of my self-destruction, JD’s handgun, the one he’d threatened me with when he had attempted to bomb the school. It jerks violently in my shaking hand, I deserved this. Murderers don’t deserve happy endings.

_ “Veronica DON’T!!!” _

I raise to my feet, ignoring her voice, her presence, I glare at his name, and it wasn’t fair that he could just escape this, the guilt, the pain, this torture. I press the gun to my temple, counting down slowly in my head.

One.

_ “Veronica, stop this, this is insane!” _

Two.

_“VERONICA! STOP THIS, JUST STOP!!!” _

Thre-

something knocks into me, I bash my head against something hard, probably JD’s gravestone, a flash of light assaults my eyes and I collapse in a heap my body giving out as everything goes dark.


	2. WTF

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Veronica notices some things aren't right, what the heck is going on?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, it's taken me so dang long to update, hopefully I'll be better with later chapters.

There’s a painful throbbing in my head that brings me to the unfortunate realization that I am in fact still alive. I let out an irritable groan as I roll over onto my back; my eyes were still clenched shut in pain over hitting my head and because I knew that the sunshine that I could feel against my skin would not help my headache one bit.

God apparently the universe hates me and I’ll just forever live with this unbearable guilt that eats away at me every damn second of every day. I take a few deep breaths and try to muster up the motivation to get up, however, I take a few more moments just laying in the grass before I eventually roll onto my side with a painful groan. I rub my eyes bitterly with the heel of my hand, trying to stop the furious pounding that feels like it’s going to crack my skull in two. I shake my head a couple of times before I force my eyes open and shove myself into a sitting position.

The sunlight hurts like fucking hell. I rub my temples and try to calm my throbbing head, but it doesn’t really do me any good, though when I pull back my hands I sigh heavily at the scarlet color that stains my fingers, Heather’s color. I growl at my own stupid thoughts and the associations with the color red. Honestly, why did I torture myself? I blindly reach out to use the headstone closest to me to pull myself to my feet. It takes me a couple of tries, but I eventually manage to stagger to an upright position using a random tombstone next to me for support.

“God, why is it so damn bright today?” I grumble to myself as I try to steady my quivering legs. I hadn’t eaten in a while or slept really for that matter. I run a hand through my hair once more and take a few more deep breaths. I pat my stupid pockets feeling for my phone, damn it why isn’t it in my pockets? I frown vaguely recalling hurtling it across the graveyard in an act of irritation and erratic anger. I frowned wondering why Heather’s fucking nosy ass ghost hadn’t interjected her opinion by now, because she was always blabbering. Always. I lamely glance around the graveyard, surveying for that bright red floral printed robe and luminescent blonde hair. I lament, coming to terms that for once Heather Chandler was nowhere to be found. Now I just had to find Ram’s stupid grave so I could gather my phone and get the hell out of here.

However, after a good twenty minutes of aimlessly circling the graveyard like a chicken with its head cut off, I realized Ram’s grave was gone. Like I ran my hand over each tombstone and double…no triple…quadruple checked each name I happen passed and his name was not there. Which lead me to the realization that Kurt, JD, and Heather’s graves were gone too; like they’d never been there in the first place. I know I sound insane, completely and utterly bonkers, but I swear to you their graves were all just gone. In fact, it wasn’t like some jackasses swiped their graves or something because that would have definitely left dirt or holes or something!

I don’t know this is probably me going over the deep end.

I can’t completely process what the hell is happening to me. This is how I end up resting my back against some chick named Eliza’s grave, my head between my knees as I breathe raggedly trying to process everything and failing miserably to come up with a reasonable explanation for all of this.

What’s going on?

Why is this happening to me?

Had I finally snapped?

What’s wrong with me?

Scratch that I know what’s wrong with me; I could write you a mile-long list of all the things that are wrong with me. I am damaged.

Breathe in… I shakily suck in a ragged breath counting slowly in my mind, 1…2…3…4…5…

Then I let out a heavy breath, counting out my breaths in my head once more. 1…2…3…4…5… I repeat the process a few more times, trying to calm my rapidly beating heart.

One thing I knew for certain, I needed to get the hell out of this damn graveyard, my phone be damned, I’d look for it later, honestly, right now I don’t give a shit. I continue my basically useless breathing exercises for a few more minutes before I stagger to my unsteady feet and stumble towards the exit of the graveyard, in an erratic need to get the hell out of here before I completely lost it.

Just my luck my mom’s damn car isn’t where I parked it last night, so I’ll have to walk home. Why is it so damn cold for a morning in April? I rub my cold hands against my goosebump ridden arms, attempting to create some sort of friction as I walked the familiar path towards home. Was that snow on the ground? I stop in my pursuit for a fraction of a second to look at the remains of snow that clings to people’s yards and houses in sporadic piles. Why the hell was it snowing it fucking April? I shake my head at my unfortunate luck before I begin walking once more. I have no idea what time it is, but it’s late enough that the sun is up in the sky directly above head, slightly covered by clouds.

It takes me a long time before I eventually make it to my stupid house, and in that time I manage to slip on ice (that I hadn’t seen till I’d already slipped on it) and scrapped my knee, which in turn rips my leggings wide open and skins my palms, it also manages to begin snowing once more, and my jacket is far too thin for this damn weather. But I am grateful to be home, I barely register the two extra cars that are in my driveway before I plow through my yard and up the front stairs and feel for my house key as I approach the front door. Unsurprisingly though my house key isn’t where I left it, so I try the doorknob, thankfully it’s open. Wow, one out of like a million things finally goes my way today. Yippee freaking yay.

“Hello? Veronica?” my mom calls out frantically from somewhere inside my house and I roll my eyes slamming the door behind me as I relish in the warmth of my house for a few seconds before I reluctantly answer.

“Yeah mom, I’m home,” I call, kicking off my shoes and leaving them by the door. I hear pounding footsteps and I see a flash of yellow and then I’m wrapped in an incredibly tight yet familiar hug. Her arms are wrapped around my neck and her legs are around my waist.

“Ronnie where have you been? We’ve all been worried sick?” Mac whimpers against my neck as she sobs guilt flashes through my heart as I stroke my fragile friend’s back. How could I ever leave her, she’s already lost so much. I hug her back tightly and shake my head.

“Sorry Mac just got lost in my own head I guess,” I whisper lamely, it was something her and Martha had called my episodes where I either spaced out or had a panic attack. Heather M. finally pulls back after a few more seconds of hugging me. She untangles herself from my body, steps back, and gives me a confused look.

“W-what do you mean?” she questions in concern, her big blue eyes are wide, and her mouth is set in a thin line. I blink back my surprise, not quite understanding what she meant by her question. Like did she want me to explain what I had done last night or did she want me to share my feelings like she and Martha loved to force me to do? I just didn’t really understand.

“You’re bleeding!” Martha exclaims shrilly as she dashes down the corridor, shoving past Heather to grab my shoulders and shake me. I wince as my adrenaline wears off and my head twinges with pain, reminding me of the blood in my hair.

“Head wounds bleed more,” I reason with a shrug and she and Mac share a look of complete and utter disbelief before more footsteps come and my mom rushes to me wrapping me in an extremely tight hug.

“Oh thank God, thank God. What were you thinking?” she whimpers against my hair, holding me so I can barely move and I shrug once more. What the hell was going on here? Like my mom was supposed to be at work till midnight today, and I hadn’t told anyone of my intentions with JD’s gun, which I somehow also lost at that damned graveyard.

“Is it really her?” Hearing Duke’s voice catches me off guard slightly because like she had been drunk with power and ignoring us for the past couple months, so had someone read my diary or something, because this was crazy.

“Let’s go to the living room,” my mom reasons before she drags me down the corridor and shoves me onto the couch.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Duke demands coming into focus, her hair is tugged into an elaborate braid and her foot is tapping away at my hardwood floors, I tilt my head slightly and snort in irritation. I stand despite my mom, Mac and Martha’s protest and meet Duke’s steely gaze, trying to figure out her angle.

“Since when do you care?” I demand sharply and she gives me an amused look, her steely green eyes sparkling with enjoyment.

“I don’t, but Heather wouldn’t stop blubbering until I agreed to help look for you,” She explains examining her nails as if our conversation bores her. “Though I am rather curious to know where the hell you’ve been the past forty-eight hours.” She adds and I open my mouth to question her, but then another voice cuts my train of thought distracting me from my confusion.

“What’s your damage, Ronnie?” I’m not surprised to hear Chandler’s voice, in fact, it was somewhat calming, I hadn’t heard from the bossy ghost since last night, though when I turn and see her in a red sweater, no blue liquid is dripping from her mouth, her eyes sparkle with life, everything crashes against me all at once and I pitch forward, everything tunnels to blackness for the second time in less than twenty-four hours.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TO BE CONTINUED.......
> 
> Thanks for reading and I hope you'll share your thoughts. Hope you enjoyed this chapter as well.


	3. Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Veronica gets some answers but they're so not what she expected ....like not at all what she expected.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is crazy, and I apologize for it hahaha

Why is this happening to me? This question endlessly plays on repeat in my brain, but I know the answer. I’m a murderer, I deserve this, to be tortured, tormented. I take a few shaky breaths as I try to will my heavy eyelids open. However my eyes snap open in alarm when I realize there’s nothing around me like I’m sitting in an endless span of white nothingness, you can’t even tell where the walls are if there even is any. I slowly rise to my feet looking up at the endless white then down at my feet. 

“the hell is this?” I grumble to myself as I walk a few steps forward, holding my hand out to feel for walls. I stumble forward for who knows how long, trying to process what was happening to me. “I think I’ve lost whatever shreds of sanity I had left,” I mumble to myself absentmindedly.

The lights flash, the space around me flashes from white to blue erratically and I fall to my knees, clutching my head as I await my inevitable doom. It’s all over now, I’m going to hell, I am almost 94% certain of this fact.

“Ms. Sawyer there’s no need to cower, though I do apologize for keeping you waiting so long.” A raspy voice fills the space and I cautiously lift my head meeting kind, gentle silver eyes. The elderly man smiled at me, holding his shaking wrinkled hand out to me. Hesitantly I put my hand in his own allowing him to pull me to my feet. He’s a tall, wrinkled old man, dressed in large blue robes and balancing his shaking elderly frame on a wobbly, crooked cane. His long snow-white beard hangs just past his knees and I ponder how long he must have taken to grow such long facial hair.

“What…um how… who…” I can’t find a proper way to word my question and so I allow my words to trail off as I awkwardly look down at my shoes. He chuckles lowly, as he leans heavily on his cane and reaches out tilting my chin up so I’ll look him in the eyes.

“Well Ms. Sawyer I bet you’re wondering who I am and where you are/” he smiles making his eyes crinkle with warmth and I numbly nod as he steps back from me, smacking his lips and glances behind himself for a moment before meeting my curious gaze once more. “Well I am Father Time, this is where all times meet.” He gestures around him and I blink back my shock as the white void around us bleeds into a colored abstract world.

“I’m sorry but what?” I demand in disbelief and he chuckles once more and shakes his head as if I’ve said something amusing to him.

“I’m Father Time, this is my dimension.” He repeats brightly and I take a few steps back because this cannot possibly be happening right now. “Look, Veronica…uh may I call you Veronica?” he questions brightly.

“Uh, sure I guess…” I mumble vacantly and he smiles wide.

“Fantastic, well Veronica I brought you here to ask how you like your new reality or timeline if you will.” The old man reasons scratching at his beard as he sits on a large clock. Which I could’ve sworn was not there a second ago.

“N-new reality? What are you talking about?” I demand hands shaking at my sides. He smiles at me politely before sipping his tea, which wasn’t there a moment ago, before crossing one leg over the other.

“Well, surely you noticed the differences. I mean Heather Chandler and those others are alive once again.” He reasons as if we’re two gal pals gossiping over tea.

“Well yeah I did, but why?” I demand feeling exasperated beyond belief at how vague and cooky this guy was. He shakes his head putting his tea down on the clock he’s sitting on, then uncrosses his legs and leans forward.

“Because in your timeline everyone else was dead, and it was all just a complete mess and waste of time.” He winks at the mention of his own name and I roll my eyes at what a complete dork Father Time is. “And the Veronica in the timeline I put you in is dead anyway, so I just switched you,” he states casually as if he’s talking about the weather or something.

“What, I don’t understand what are you talking about? What do you mean she’s dead? What do you mean my timeline was just a waste?” I can feel myself spiraling into a panic attack as all my confusion and questions and need for clarification spirals around me.

“Look Veronica yours and the dead Veronica’s timelines were identical up to a certain point. See one small action changed everything and that was you leaving the Remmington party after your fight with Heather Chandler, instead of going to JD’s house you went home wrote out a goodbye letter, ran off to the woods and well… killed yourself. So instead of you and JD doing it and becoming a Bonnie and Clyde duo, and murdering all of your friends, you died and the Heathers fell into chaos.” He looks to the side awkwardly and then clears his throat.

“But why combine our timelines?” I murmur starting to run out of questions.

“Well everyone deserves a second chance,” he winks at me once more, with a coy smirk, then sips at his empty teacup. “I suggest Ms. Veronica Sawyer that you don’t waste yours.”

He snaps his fingers and my vision tunnels and I collapse to my knees once more. His words echo in my mind and I shake my head to dispell some of the dizziness that’s clouding my brain. But eventually my willpower gives out and I collapse completely everything fades to black and I lose all rational thought. I embrace the darkness because it is all that really makes sense right now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To be Continued...  
the next chapter will have more Heather Chandler and Veronica interactions promise


	4. Just Go With It

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Veronica interacts with Heather Chandler for the first time in months.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for not updating sooner, my writing kept deleting itself. So I'll try to be better in the future, hope you enjoy please comment if you want.
> 
> Happy readings!

“Whhhhhy?” I whine painfully when I feel myself coming back to consciousness, my head feels like someone hit me repeatedly in the forehead with a hammer. I scrunch up my face as I try to roll onto my side, but hands still my movement, pushing me back onto what I assume is the couch, or maybe a bed, I’m not really sure. I feel too dead to actually look and confirm my suspicions. “Ssstop!” I grumble when I’m pushed back into place once more, when I try to roll again, and a soft scoff fills my ears and brings me crashing back into reality. Like I was literally in the wrong reality. One where I killed myself because of Heather and my’s fight after that stupid party. This was all a mess. Heather Chandler could not be alive. This was crazy. Or I’m crazy. Ugh I’d been having this thought too often recently.  
I bring my hands up rubbing up and down my face vigorously, honestly I was kind of hoping I could just …I don’t know rub myself out of existence or something. The thought of this being a figment of my imagination. I bring my hands up slapping them against my face. Nothing. I repeat the action. Nope still here. I go to repeat the action a third time when my wrists are restrained and pressed on either side of my head.  
“VERONICA STOP IT!!!!” a firm voice I know all too well reprimands me sharply, I realize that the Heather Chandler is restraining me, stopping me from hurting myself, something her ghost form could never do. I wasn’t used to her touch, I hadn’t felt her touch in months, eleven to be exact. I slowly allow my eyes to open. To take in my friend, I gulp at the sight of those steely blue eyes that are glaring sternly at me. I try not to cry, but the emotion builds up regardless. I mean I never thought I’d see her alive and breathing again. Which is how I end up a blubbering mess of a person like five seconds later at this realization. She drops my wrists in a panic and looks around uncertain on what to do, it’s obvious she has no idea how to comfort someone.

She just looks so uncertain, as she pats my shoulder in an attempt of compassion before she shakes her head and throws caution to the wind and just pulls me into her arms. It takes me a moment of pathetic sniveling before I realize I’m in my bedroom, and Heather Chandler is hugging me. “Don’t cry…Ronnie it’s okay…” she whispers with uncertainty as she rubs my back and sways slightly with me nestled in her arms...against her chest.  
“Sorry.” I mumble pulling from the HBIC ‘s arms, once I realize my position.

I laugh awkwardly swiping my tears away, as I try to get ahold of my wild emotions. I shook myself and Heather gave me a disbelieving look as I twirled a loose thread from my shirt around my fingers trying to avoid eye contact.  
“You don’t have to apologize for crying Ronnie…” Heather mumbled brushing aside a lock of my hair gently and tucking it behind my ear. I cringe when I feel her soft hand cup my chin roughly, as she jerks my face upwords, and forces eye contact. “But you know you could apologize for I don’t know disappearing for two fucking days without any explaination but some vague ass letter saying you were going to…to… to just kill yourself!” she snaps and my breath catches in my throat when I see tears shining in her usually steely eyes. This wasn’t dramatic tears or tears of manipulation, her eyes were filled with genuine tears of hurt. I didn’t know what to say or more importantly how to make it better. Heather gave me a pointed look, but like did I just apologize for something I had no idea about or what? I bite my lower lip, contemplating what to say.

What was I thinking, I had everything to apologize for. I'd been an accessory to her damn murder for God's sake.

_“It’s a hangover cure.”_

Images of Heather gasping for breath, looking at me betrayal shining in those steely blue eyes I had come to adore. I see Heather crashing through a glass table, lifeless. Those same steely eyes lifeless and dead. I see her pale face at her funeral, I see her grave shining in the moonlight.  
“I’m sorry, so sorry…I’m sorry..” I whimper as I see JD as he sneers pointing his gun at me, I clench my eyes shut. Why had I listened to him? Why had I let him manipulate me? Why had I let him kill my best friend? I suck in a shuddering breath. I’m supposed to be so smart and yet I let some boy use me and abuse me.  
“Veronica what’s your damage…” Heather inquires nervously. I shake my head forgetting my surroundings for a moment, Heather’s eyebrows are furrowed in concern, and all I can think as I look at her is if Heather is alive again, then so is Kurt and Ram…and JD. Oh God JD. “Ronnie? Ronnie look at me!” hands cup my cheeks and I snapped back to my senses.  
“I’m sorry.” I whisper looking down at our laps, our knees are touching and I feel my face heat up in embarrassment.i was so damn pitiful. Tears are falling down my cheeks as I hiccup pathetically.

"I forgive you okay? God just don't do it again… please just stop crying please.." Heather exclaims frantic as she grabs my shoulders and tries to duck her head to look in my eyes. "Ronnie? Just calm down okay?" She tries again her tone slightly edgy with exasperation. I shake my head wishing she'd just slap me, her forgiveness wasn't deserved. When tears started blurring my vision for a second time Heather curses. "Shit Veronica I'm sorry, I'm the fucking worst at this…" she hissed running her hands up and down my arms as she glances around the room, as if my old stuffed animals and writing stuff will give her the answers she's looking for.

"I don't deserve your forgiveness. " I whisper snapping her attention back to me instantly. Her eyes narrowed, hardening into pure steel at my pitiful statement.  
"Veronica what the hell are you talking about, of course you do?" Heather exclaims and I shake my head. "Veronica it's not like you killed someone. " she encourages and I cringe.

_No just four people._

"Sure Heather. " I mutter garing at my clenched fists in my lap. "God why am I here?"  
"What's that supposed to mean?" Heather demands her tone just as ferocious as the day I first met her. I look away sourly unsure of how to answer.  
"Nothing." I grumble picking at my cuticles absentmindedly.  
"No what the fuck did you mean Veronica?!" She demands furiously as she tugs on a lock of my hair to get me to look at her. I wince slightly at the slightest sting of pain at her action.  
"Nothing." I deadpan stubbornly  
"That's a lie!" She accuses leaning close to my face enraged at my avoidance tactics.  
"No it's not just forget it!" I exclaim in exasperation.  
"No just tell me!" She demands of me darkly.  
"No just fucking forget it okay?" I exclaimed shaking my head.

" No, I won't fucking forget it so just tell me!" Heather ordered fiercely eyes ignited with a fire of conviction. I just snapped and without thinking I spat the first thing that ran through my mind.

"God why didn't I just kill myself sooner?!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To be Continued...

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed this chapter.


End file.
